Morning didn't feel like morning.
Not after the night Damian had.
Sleep had come in fragments, light and easily broken, his mind replaying the same details over and over again. The static on the screen. The silhouette. The message.
You looked at the wall longer than the others.
It wasn't just a threat.
It was awareness.
And that changed everything.
Damian stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his cuffs slowly, his expression calm but his eyes sharper than before. There was no hesitation in him, no second thoughts. If anything, there was something else now.
Focus.
Clear and dangerous.
He stepped out of his apartment, locking the door behind him, his movements precise. The hallway was empty, the same dull silence lingering like always. But today, he noticed it more.
Or maybe he just cared less about ignoring it.
By the time he reached the station, the energy had shifted.
Word had spread.
Not officially.
But enough.
People glanced at him longer than usual. Conversations lowered when he passed. The case was no longer just another investigation. It was becoming something else.
Something people didn't want attached to their name.
Damian walked straight through it.
Unaffected.
He pushed open the door to his workspace—
—and stopped.
Vane was already there.
Sitting on his desk.
Not near it.
On it.
Feet resting on a chair, casually flipping through a file like he had nowhere else to be.
"You're late," Vane said without looking up.
Damian closed the door behind him.
"I'm not."
"You are if I'm already bored."
Damian ignored that, placing his keys down.
"What are you doing?"
"Waiting," Vane replied. "Obviously."
"For what?"
"For you to catch up."
That made Damian pause for a second.
Then—
"Get off the desk."
"No."
Silence.
Damian looked at him.
Vane looked back.
Unbothered.
A beat passed.
Then Vane sighed dramatically and slid off the desk anyway.
"You're no fun," he muttered.
Damian didn't respond.
"Update," he said instead.
Vane's expression shifted slightly, the playfulness fading just enough.
"I pulled everything from last night," he said, holding up the file. "Victim's call logs, movement patterns, financials."
"And?"
Vane stepped closer, dropping the file onto the desk.
"He knew something," he said.
Damian's eyes lifted.
"Explain."
"Elliot Graves made three calls before he died," Vane continued. "Two normal. One… wasn't."
Damian opened the file.
"Unknown number?"
"No," Vane said quietly. "Private line. Encrypted."
Damian's fingers paused on the page.
"That's not something a small-time distributor uses."
"Exactly."
A pause.
"He wasn't just a target," Damian said.
"He was involved," Vane finished.
Silence.
Then—
"What about the others?" Damian asked.
"Same pattern," Vane replied. "Each of them had contact with something bigger right before they died."
Damian closed the file slowly.
"They're cleaning something."
"Or someone," Vane added.
Damian's jaw tightened slightly.
"Or covering tracks."
The room felt smaller now.
Heavier.
"CCTV from my building," Damian said suddenly.
Vane blinked once.
"That was fast."
"Check it."
"I already did."
Damian looked at him.
"And?"
Vane's expression didn't change.
"It's blank."
A pause.
"Not just the time you came in," he continued. "The entire night."
Damian didn't react immediately.
"How?"
"Same way as the alley cameras," Vane said. "Clean cut. No trace."
That confirmed it.
This wasn't coincidence.
This was control.
"They were there," Damian said quietly.
Vane nodded once.
"Yeah."
Silence settled again.
Then—
"You get any messages?" Vane asked casually.
Damian didn't answer.
Vane raised an eyebrow.
"I'll take that as a yes."
"It doesn't matter."
"It does if they're inside your house."
Damian's gaze hardened slightly.
"They weren't inside."
"You sure?"
A pause.
Then—
"They didn't need to be," Damian said.
That made Vane go quiet for a second.
Because that was worse.
A lot worse.
"What did it say?" Vane asked, this time more serious.
Damian hesitated for half a second.
Then—
"They're watching."
Vane let out a small breath.
"Yeah," he said. "I figured that part."
Damian picked up the file again.
"No," he said. "Not watching generally."
A pause.
"Watching me."
Silence.
Vane leaned back slightly, studying him.
"And you're still standing here like that's normal?"
Damian looked at him.
"It is now."
That answer sat wrong.
Not because it was careless.
Because it wasn't.
It was calculated.
Vane exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
"You're either very brave," he muttered, "or very stupid."
"Neither."
"Then what?"
Damian closed the file with a soft thud.
"I'm ahead."
Vane almost laughed at that.
"Of someone who hacked your house, erased footage, and sent you messages while you were standing there?"
Damian stepped closer.
"Yes."
A pause.
Vane studied him for a long second.
Then—
A slow grin appeared.
"Alright," he said. "Now I'm interested."
Damian turned, already heading for the door.
"Good," he said.
"Because we're not stopping."
Vane followed immediately.
"Where are we going?"
Damian didn't slow down.
"To find out why they chose those victims."
"And if we don't?"
Damian opened the door.
Then looked back just slightly.
"We will."
The certainty in his voice wasn't loud.
But it was enough.
And somewhere—
behind screens,
behind shadows,
behind careful planning—
someone was still watching.
And this time,
they weren't just observing.
They were waiting.
__
The room they entered felt wrong the moment the door opened.
Not abandoned.
Not empty.
Just… interrupted.
Like something had been happening there and stopped too suddenly.
Damian stepped in first, his eyes adjusting quickly, scanning every inch with quiet precision. The place was a small rented flat in Camden, listed under a false name, paid in cash, no digital trace beyond the bare minimum.
One of Elliot Graves' secondary locations.
Or rather, one he didn't want anyone to know about.
Vane followed behind, slower this time. Not careless, just observant in a different way. His gaze lingered on things longer, noticing details others would step over.
The curtains were half drawn.
A faint smell of stale air mixed with something metallic still lingered.
"Doesn't look like a place someone lives," Vane muttered.
"Because they didn't," Damian replied. "They used it."
"For meetings?"
"For control."
Damian moved toward the table in the center of the room. Papers were scattered, not chaotically, but not neatly either. It wasn't a struggle.
It was a search.
Someone had already been here.
"And they didn't find everything," Vane said quietly.
Damian glanced at him.
"You think they missed something?"
"They always do."
Damian didn't respond. He was already going through the papers, flipping them one by one, scanning for anything that didn't fit. Receipts, coded notes, partial numbers, names that meant nothing on their own.
But together—
They started forming something.
"Look at this," Damian said.
Vane stepped closer.
A list.
Short.
Five names.
Elliot Graves was one of them.
Two others were already dead.
Two remained.
"Targets," Vane said.
"Or links," Damian corrected.
A pause.
"Either way, they're next."
The weight of that settled quickly.
"Locations?" Vane asked.
Damian flipped the page.
"Not written."
"Of course not."
Silence returned, thicker this time.
Vane moved away, toward the back of the room. A smaller space, barely separated, maybe used as a workspace. There was a desk there, older, scratched, one drawer slightly open.
He crouched.
Pulled it open fully.
Empty.
Almost.
His fingers paused.
There.
Something tucked into the inner lining.
Small.
Barely visible unless you were looking for it.
Vane's expression didn't change.
He slipped it out quietly.
A chip.
Black.
Minimal.
No marking.
His eyes flickered for a second.
Then—
he closed his fist around it.
And stood up.
"Anything?" Damian's voice came from behind.
Vane turned.
"Nothing useful," he said casually.
Damian watched him for a second.
Then went back to the table.
Vane slipped the chip into his pocket.
Unnoticed.
For now.
Minutes passed in silence, both of them working, collecting, connecting, but the room was giving less than it should have.
It had already been cleaned.
Carefully.
Too carefully.
Then—
Vane's phone buzzed.
Once.
Sharp.
He froze for half a second.
Then stepped aside, turning his back slightly as he checked the screen.
Unknown line.
But not random.
His expression shifted.
Subtle.
Controlled.
He answered.
"Yeah."
The voice on the other end wasn't loud.
But it carried authority.
"You found something."
Not a question.
A statement.
Vane's grip tightened slightly around the phone.
"I'm in the middle of something," he said quietly.
"Answer properly."
A pause.
Then—
"Yes."
Silence on the other end.
Then—
"Bring it in."
Vane's jaw tightened.
"I can't."
"Excuse me?"
"I don't have clearance for direct submission," Vane said, keeping his voice steady. "You know that."
A pause.
Longer this time.
Then—
"Then get someone who does."
The line went quiet for a second.
Then colder.
"Do not delay this."
The call ended.
Just like that.
Vane lowered the phone slowly.
His expression unreadable now.
For a second, he didn't move.
Then he turned back.
Damian was already looking at him.
"How important?" Damian asked.
Vane exhaled once.
"Important enough for headquarters to call directly."
That made Damian straighten slightly.
"What did you find?"
Silence.
A beat too long.
Damian noticed.
"What did you find, Vane?"
Vane ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping.
"It's nothing confirmed yet."
"That's not what I asked."
Another pause.
Then—
Vane reached into his pocket.
Pulled out the chip.
And held it up.
Damian's eyes locked onto it instantly.
"You had that this whole time?"
"I just found it."
"And didn't think to mention it?"
"I was going to."
"When?"
"After I understood what it is."
Damian stepped closer.
"You don't decide that alone."
Vane didn't back down.
"I do when I'm the one who found it."
Silence snapped between them.
Sharp.
Tense.
"Headquarters wants it," Vane said.
"That fast?"
"They knew I had it before I even called."
That changed the air completely.
Damian's gaze hardened.
"They're watching too."
"Yeah," Vane said quietly. "Looks like we're not the only ones being observed."
A pause.
"Then why haven't you handed it over?"
Vane looked at him directly.
"Because I can't."
Damian frowned slightly.
"Clearance?"
"Exactly."
Another silence.
Then—
"You can," Vane added.
Damian didn't like where that was going.
"No."
"You don't even know what I'm asking yet."
"I know enough."
Vane stepped closer.
"This isn't optional."
"It is for me."
"Not if headquarters is involved."
Damian's expression didn't change.
"Then they can come get it themselves."
"They won't."
"Why?"
Vane hesitated.
Then—
"Because they don't want to be seen near this yet."
That landed.
Hard.
"They're hiding it," Damian said.
"They're controlling it," Vane corrected.
A long pause followed.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
"You should've told me immediately," Damian said quietly.
"And you would've done what?" Vane shot back. "Handed it over without even thinking?"
"Yes."
"That's the problem."
Silence.
Then—
Damian stepped closer.
Close enough now that the tension wasn't just in the air anymore.
"Give it to me."
Vane didn't move.
"Not until you agree to take it."
"I'm not your courier."
"And I'm not allowed inside."
Another pause.
"You don't get to hide things from me," Damian said.
"And you don't get to control everything," Vane replied.
Their voices weren't loud.
But they didn't need to be.
The tension was enough.
"Say it properly," Damian said.
Vane held his gaze.
"Take the chip to headquarters."
A long silence followed.
Damian looked at the chip.
Then back at Vane.
Then away.
Thinking.
Calculating.
This wasn't just about a piece of evidence anymore.
This was about who was pulling the strings.
And how far it reached.
"You should've told me," he said again.
Vane didn't argue this time.
"I know."
That made it worse.
Another pause.
Then—
Damian held out his hand.
Vane hesitated for a second.
Then placed the chip into it.
Cold.
Light.
But it felt heavier than it should.
"I don't like this," Damian said quietly.
"Yeah," Vane replied. "That makes two of us."
A beat.
Then—
"I'll take it."
Not agreement.
Not acceptance.
Just necessity.
Vane exhaled slowly.
"Good."
Damian turned toward the door.
But before leaving—
he stopped.
"You don't hide things again."
Vane didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"Try and stop me."
Damian didn't respond.
He just walked out.
And for the first time—
the case didn't feel like something they were chasing.
It felt like something they had just stepped inside.
___
The traffic was loud, and damain got a reason to use a public transport of course the chip had some strong evidences and he can't lose them but he knew they have an eye on him.
He was standing there to get the taxi, remarkably handsome.
A sudden sob, Damain looked beside a girl she was beautiful.
"angles are on tour to earth nowadays... "
Damain muttered under his breathe as he saw the girl's red cheeks wet with tears.
"Um... Miss don't cry here... " He stretched his hand a handkerchief in his hand the girl took it with a small thank you and before damain could respond the girl hurried and rushed to a black car on the Other side. Damain was totally confused.
Damain saw that car exiting and that girl from the window, a brief eye contact.
"I think I found something more important than this chip...i don't think I would lable him as my prey anymore"
___
Here damain was in taxi as he got a call from vane he bitterly picked it up.
"Yeah what? "
Damain asked totally irritated
"Just checking if you have kept that little thing safely you know I can't trust the irony"
Vane, his voice almost mocking.
"Yeah I know, and you better know I got a good place to keep it safe I kept it in my handker.... Wait... Shit"
___
AN : I hope you loved the chapter ❤ please support